AN UNFINISHED TALE.
CHAPTER I.
My name is Toots. Why, I have not the slightest idea. But I suppose very few people—cats or otherwise—are consulted about their own names. If they were, these would perhaps be, as a rule, more appropriate.
What qualities of mind or body my name was supposed to illustrate, I have not to this hour a notion. I distinctly remember the stage of my kittenhood, when I thought that Toots was the English for cream.
"Toots! Toots!" my young mistress used to say, in the most suggestive tones, creeping after me as I would creep after a mouse, with a saucerful of that delicious liquid in her hand.
"Toots is first-rate stuff," I used to think, and I purred accordingly, for I never was an ungrateful cat.
This was in the dining-room, and in the morning. Later in the day, "Toots" was served in the drawing-room. It was between these two periods, I remember, that one day I found myself in the larder. Why I went there, puzzled me at the time; for if there is anything I hate it is a chill, and there was a horrid draught through a window pierced with tiny holes, which seemed to let in a separate blast for every hair of one's fur. I followed the cook, it is true; but I did not follow the cook as a rule—not, for instance, when she went out to the coal-hole in the yard. I had slipped in under her dress. I was behind the potato-tub when she went out, shutting the door after her. For some mysterious reason I felt on the tip-claw of expectation. My nose twitched with agreeable sensations. An inward voice seemed to murmur, Toots! Regardless of the draughts, I sprang on to the shelf close under the window. And there was such a dish of cream! The saucers in which one got it at breakfast did not hold a twentieth part of what this brimming pan contained. As to the five o'clock china, in which visitors give you a tepid teaspoonful, with bits of old tea-leaves in it—I grinned at the thought as I drew in tongueful after tongueful of the thick yellow cream.
At this moment I heard my young mistress's voice in the distant passages.
"I've got plenty," purred I, lifting my head to speak, by a great effort.
"Toots, Toots!" she miowed on, for she wasn't much quicker-witted than the rest of her race.
"No, thank you," thought I; "and if you want five o'clock toots for yourself, I advise you to come here for it." I thought this, but speak I really could not—I was too busy lapping.
It was delicious stuff! But when the dish was about three-parts empty, I began to feel as if I had had a good deal, and to wish I had more appetite for the rest. "It's a shame to leave it, though," I thought, "when a few more laps will empty the dish." For I come of an ancient and rough-tongued cat family, who always lick their platters clean. So I set to work again, though the draught was most annoying, and froze the cream to butter on my whiskers.
I was polishing the glazed earthenware with the family skill, when I became conscious that the house was resounding to the cry of "Toots!"
"Toots, Toots!" squeaked the housemaid, in the servants' hall.
"Toots, Toots!" growled the elderly butler, in the pantry.
"Toots, Toots, cock-a-Toots!" yelled that intolerable creature, the Macaw.
"Toots, Toots!" snapped the cook.
"Miow," said I; for I had finished the cream, and could speak now, though I confess I did not feel equal to any great exertion.
The cook opened the door. She found me—she did not find the cream, which she had left in the dish ready for whipping.
Perhaps it was because she had no cream to whip, that she tried to whip me. Certainly, during the next half-hour, I had reason to be much confused as to the meaning of the word "Toots." In the soft voice of my mistress it had always seemed to me to mean cream; now it seemed to mean kicks, blows, flapping dish-cloths, wash-leathers and dusters, pokers, carpet brooms, and every instrument of torture with which a poor cat could be chased from garret to cellar. I am pretty nimble, and though I never felt less disposed for violent exercise, I flatter myself I led them a good dance before, by a sudden impulse of affectionate trustfulness, I sprang straight into my mistress's arms for shelter.
"You must beat him, miss," gasped the cook, "or there'll never be no bearing him in the house. Every drop of that lovely cream gone, and half the sweets for the ball supper throwed completely out of calculation!"
"Naughty Toots, naughty Toots, naughty Toots!" cried the young lady, and with every "Toots" she gave me a slap; but as her paws had no claws in them, I was more offended than hurt.
This was my first lesson in honesty, and it was also the beginning of that train of reasoning in my own mind, by which I came to understand that when people called "Toots" they meant me. And as—to do them justice—they generally called me with some kind intention, I made a point of responding to my name.
Indeed, they were so kind to me, and my position was such a very comfortable one, that when a lean tabby called one day for a charitable subscription, and begged me to contribute a few spare partridge bones to a fund for the support of starving cats in the neighbourhood, who had been deserted by families leaving town, I said that really such cases were not much in my line. There is a great deal of imposition about—perhaps the cats had stolen the cream, and hadn't left off stealing it when they were chased by the family. I doubted if families where the cats deserved respect and consideration ever did leave town. One has so many calls, if one once begins to subscribe to things; and I am particularly fond of partridge.
But when, a few months later, the very words which the lean tabby had spoken passed between the butler and the cook in reference to our own household, and I learnt that "the family" were going "to leave town," I felt a pang of conscience, and wished I had subscribed the merry thought, or even the breast-bone—there was very little on it—to the Deserted Cats' Fund.
But it was my young mistress who told me (with regrets and caresses, which in the circumstances were mere mockery) that I was to be left behind.
I have a particularly placid temper, and can adapt myself pretty comfortably to the ups and downs of life; but this news made my tail stand on end.
"Poor dear Toots!" said my mistress, kissing my nose, and tickling me gently under the ear, as if she were saying the prettiest things possible. "I am so sorry! I don't know what we are to do with you! But we are going abroad, and we can't take you, you dear old thing! We've such heaps of luggage, and such lots of servants, and no end of things that must go! But I can't bear to think of you left behind!"
"No," said I indignantly; "that's just it, and the people at number ten, and number fourteen, and number twenty-five, couldn't bear to think what would become of their cats, so they went away and didn't think about it. They couldn't bear to see them die, so they didn't give them a dose of quick poison, but left them to die of starvation, when they weren't there to see. You're a heartless, selfish race, you human beings, and I suspect that Mrs. Tabby is not the only shabby-looking, true-hearted soul, who has to pester people for subscriptions to patch up the dreary end of existence for deserted pets, when caressing days are over. Fuff!"
And I jumped straight out of her arms, and whisked through the dining-room window. For some time I strolled thoughtfully along the top of the area railings. I rather hoped I might see Mrs. Tabby. I wondered how her subscription list was getting on. I felt all the difference between a lady's interest in a Reduced Gentlewomen's Benevolent Institution or a Poor Annuitants' Home, when she is well and wealthy, and the same lady's interest when some turn of Misfortune's wheel has left her "dependent on her own exertions." It seemed that I was to be left dependent on my own exertions—and my thoughts turned naturally to Mrs. Tabby and the Deserted Cats' Fund.
But not a sign of the good creature! At this moment a hansom cab rattled up, and a gentleman got out and rang our front-door bell. As he got out of the cab, I jumped down from the railings, and rubbed against his legs—he had very long legs.
"Halloa, Toots! is that you?" said he in a kindly voice, which had always had attractions for me, and which in my present mood was particularly grateful. His hat was set well on the back of his head, and I could clearly see the friendly expression of his countenance. Suddenly he tilted it over his nose, which I have observed that he is apt to do when struck by a new idea. "Toots!" said he abruptly, "what are they going to do with you?"
Blessings on this kind of friend! say I; the friend who will encumber himself with the responsibility of thinking what's to become of you, when you are down in the world. Those tender-hearted souls who can't bear to think of your misfortunes are a much more numerous part of one's acquaintance.
A ray of hope began to dawn upon me. Perhaps a new and an even more luxurious home was to be offered for my acceptance. In what foolish panic had I begun to identify myself with the needy classes of society? A cat of my stripes and style! Once more I thought of benevolent institutions from a patronizing point of view. But I would be a patron, and a generous one. The shock had done so much! And the next time Mrs. Tabby called I would pick out a lot of my best bones for the Fund.
Meanwhile, I went back to the railings, and from these took a flying leap, and perched myself on the gentleman's shoulder. I could hardly have managed it from the ground, he had such very long legs.
I think, by the bye, that I have mentioned this before. I do not wish to repeat myself, or to dwell on my grievance, though, if his legs had been shorter, his riding-boots would not have been so long, and I might at this moment know what became of—but I must not forestall my story.
I jumped on to the gentleman's shoulder. In doing so, I knocked his hat over one eye. But I have seen it so since then, and he made no complaint. The man-servant opened the door, and we went into the house together.
CHAPTER II.
I flatter myself that my head is not remarkable for size and beauty alone. I am a cat of mind, and I made it up at once as to the course of conduct to pursue.
I am also a cat with some powers of observation, and I have observed that two things go a long way with men—flattery and persistence. Also that the difficulty of coaxing them is not in direct proportion to their size—rather the reverse. Another thing that I have observed is, that if you want to be well-treated, or have a favour to ask, it is a great thing to have a good coat on your back in good order.
How many a human being has sleeked the rich softness of my magnificent tiger skin, and then said, in perfect good faith, "How Toots enjoys being stroked!"
"How you enjoy the feel of my fur, you mean," I am tempted to say. But I do not say it. It doesn't do to disturb the self-complacency of people who have the control of the milk-jug.
Having made up my mind to coax the gentleman into adopting me, I devoted myself entirely to him for the evening, and ignored the rest of the party, as serenely as a cat knows how. Again and again did he put me down with firm, but not ungentle hands, saying—"Go down, Toots," and pick stray hairs in a fidgety manner off his dress-trousers; and again and again did I return to his shoulder (where he couldn't see the hairs) and purr in his ear, and rub my long whiskers against his short ones.
But it was not till he was comfortably established in an arm-chair by the drawing-room fire, round which the rest of the family were also seated, that the charm began to work.
"How devoted Toots is to you!" purred the ladies, after an ineffectual effort on my part to share the arm-chair.
"You're a very foolish Toots," said the gentleman. (I was back on his shoulder by this time.)
"Toots, you've deserted me," said my young mistress. "I'm quite jealous," she added.
"Toots, you brute!" cried the gentleman, seizing me in both hands. "Where's your good taste, and your gratitude? Go to your mistress, sir," and he threw me into her lap. But I sprang back to his shoulder with one leap.
"It's really most extraordinary," said one lady.
"And Toots never goes to strangers as a rule," added my mistress.
Everybody is proud of being exceptionally favoured. It was this last stroke, I am convinced, that rubbed him the right way. A gratified blandness pervaded his countenance. He made no further attempts to dislodge me, and I settled myself into the angles of his shoulder and affected to go to sleep.
"What are you going to do with him?" he asked, crossing one long leg over the other with a convulsive abruptness very trying to my balance, and to the strength of the arm-chair.
Both the ladies began to mew. They were so sorry to leave me behind, but it was quite impossible to take me. They couldn't bear to think of my being unhappy, and didn't know where in the world to find me a home.
"I wish you would take him!" said my mistress.
I listened breathlessly for the gentleman's reply.
"Pets are not in the least in my line," he said. "I am a bachelor, you know, of very tidy habits. I dislike trouble, and have a rooted objection to encumbrances."
"We hear you have a pet mouse, though," said my mistress. He laughed awkwardly.
"My dear young lady, I never said that my practice always squared with my principles. Helpless and troublesome creatures have sometimes an insinuating way with them, which forms an additional reason for avoiding them, especially if one is weak-minded. And——"
"And you have a pet mouse?"
He sat suddenly upright with another jerk, which nearly shot me into the fire-place, and said,
"I'll tell you about it, for upon my word I wish you could see the little beggar. It was one afternoon when I came in from riding, that I found a mouse sitting on the fender. I could only see his back, with the tail twitching, and I noticed that a piece had been bitten out of his left ear. The little wretch must have heard me quite well, but he sat on as if the place belonged to him.
"'You're pretty cool!' I said; and being rather the reverse myself, I threw the Queen's Regulations at him, and he disappeared. But it bothered me, for I hate mice in one's quarters. You never know what mischief they mayn't be doing. You put valuable papers carefully away, and the next time you go to the cupboard, they are reduced to shreds. The little brutes take the lining of your slippers to line their nests. They keep you awake at night—in short, they're detestable. But I am not fond of killing things myself, though I've a sort of a conscience about knowing how it's done. I don't like leaving necessary executions to servants. As to mice, you know—poisoning is out of the question, on sanitary grounds. 'Catch-'em-alive' traps are like a policeman who catches a pickpocket—all the trouble of the prosecution is to come; and as to the traps with springs and spikes—my man set one in my bedroom once, and in the middle of the night the mouse was caught. For nearly an hour I doubt if I was much the happier of the two. Every moment I thought the poor wretch would stop screaming, for I had ordered the trap in the belief that death was instantaneous. At last I jumped up, and put the whole concern into my tub and held it under water. The poor beast was dead in six seconds. A catch-'em-alive trap and a tub of water is the most merciful death, I fancy; but I am rather in favour of letting one animal kill another. It seems more natural, and fairer. They have a run for their lives, so to speak."
"And who did you get to kill your mouse?"
"Well, I know a youngster who has a terrier. They are a perfect pair. As like as two peas, and equally keen about sport—they would go twenty miles to chase a bluebottle round an attic, sooner than not hunt something. So I told him there was a mouse de trop in my rooms, and he promised to bring Nipper next morning. I was going out hunting myself.
"The meet was early, and my man got breakfast at seven o'clock for me in my own quarters; and the first thing I saw when I came out of my bedroom was the mouse sitting on the edge of my Indian silver sugar-basin. I knew him again by his ear. And there he sat all breakfast-time, twitching his tail, and nibbling little bits of sugar, and watching me with such a pair of eyes! Have you ever seen a mouse's eyes close? Upon my word, they are wonderfully beautiful, and it's uncommonly difficult to hurt a creature with fine eyes. I didn't touch it, and as I was going out I looked back, and the mouse was looking after me. I was a fool for looking back, for I can't stand a pitiful expression in man or beast, and it put an end to Nipper's sport, and left me with a mouse in my quarters—a thing I hate. I didn't like to say I'd changed my mind about killing the mouse, but I wrote to Nipper's master, and said I wouldn't trouble him to come up for such a trifling matter."
"So the mouse was safe?"
"Well, I thought so. But the young fellow (who is very good-natured) wrote back to say it was no trouble whatever, and the letter lay on my mantel-piece till I came home and found that he and Nipper had broken a chair-leg, and two china plates."
"Did they kill the mouse?"
"Well, no. But I nearly killed Nipper in saving him; and the little rascal has lived with me ever since."
The ladies seemed highly delighted with this anecdote, but, for my own part, I felt feverish to the tips of my claws, as I thought of the miserable creature who had usurped the place I wished to fill, and who might be the means of my having to fall back after all on the Deserted Cats' Fund. What bungling puss had had him under her paws, and allowed him to escape with a torn ear and the wariness of experience? Let me but once catch sight of that twitching tail!——
At this moment the gentleman got up, stretched his long——
But I will not allude to them! It annoys me as much as the thought of that bungling cat, or of Nipper's baulked attempt. He put up his hands and lifted me from his shoulder, and my heart sank as he said, "If I am to catch my train, I fear I must say good-bye."
I believe that, in this hopeless crisis, my fur as usual was in my favour. He rubbed his cheek against mine before putting me down, and then said, "And you've not told me, after all, where poor Toots is really going."
"We have not found a home for him yet, I assure you," said my mistress. "Our washerwoman wants him, and she is a most kind-hearted and respectable person, but she has got nine children, and——"
"Nine children!" ejaculated my friend, "My poor Toots, there will not be an inch of that magnificent tail of yours left at the end of a week. What cruelty to animals! Upon my word, I'd almost rather take Toots myself, than think of him with a washerwoman and nine children. Eh, Toots! would you like to come?"
I was on the carpet, rubbing against his—yes, long or short, they were his, and he was kind to me!—rubbing, I say, against his legs. I could get no impetus for a spring, but I scrambled straight up him as one would scramble up a tree (my grandmother was a bird-catcher of the first talent, and I inherit her claws), and uttered one pitiful mew.
The gentleman gave a short laugh, and took me into his arms.
"Oh, how good of you! Jones shall get a hamper," cried the ladies. But he shook his head.
"Three of the fourteen parcels I've got to pick up at the station are hampers. I wouldn't have another on my mind for a fortune. If Toots comes at all, he must come like a Christian and look after himself."
I will not dwell on our departure. It was a sadly flurried one, for a cat of my temperament. The ladies saw us off, and as my young mistress covered me with farewell kisses, I felt an unquestionable pang of regret. But one has to repress one's affections, and consider one's prospects in life, if one does not want to come upon the Deserted Cats' Fund!
My master put his hat on the back of his head on the steps, and knocked it off in shouting through a hole in the roof of the cab that we were to drive like the wind, as we were late. At the last moment several things were thrown in after us. A parcel of books he had lent the young lady, and a pair of boots he had left behind on some former occasion. The books were very neatly packed, and addressed, but the boots came "like Christians, and looked after themselves." And through all, I clung fast, and blessed the inherited vigour of my grandmother's claws.
At the parcels office, I certainly risked nine lives among the fourteen parcels which were dragged and pitched, and turned over in every direction; but though he paid me no other attention, my master never forgot to put back a hand to help me when we moved on. Eventually we found ourselves alone in a very comfortable carriage, and I suppose the fourteen packages were safe too, thanks to the desperate struggles of five porters, who went off clutching their paws as if they were satisfied with the result.
After incommoding me for some time by rustling newspapers, and making spasmodic struggles to find a posture that suited him, my master found one at last and fell asleep, and I crept up to the velvet collar of his great-coat and followed his example.
CHAPTER III.
I like living with bachelors. They have comfortable chairs, and keep good fires. They don't put water into the tea-pot: they call the man-servant and send for more tea. They don't give you a table-spoonful of cream, fidgeting and looking round to see if anybody else wants it: one of them turns the jug upside-down into your saucer, and before another can lay hold of it and say, "Halloa! The milk's all gone,"—you have generally had time to lap it up under the table.
I prefer men's outsides, too, to women's in some respects. Why all human beings—since they have no coats of their own, and are obliged to buy them—do not buy handsomely marked furs whilst they are about it, is a puzzle to a cat. As to the miserable stuff ladies cover themselves with in an evening, there is about as much comfort and softness in it as in going to sleep on a duster. Men's coats are nothing to boast of, either to look at or to feel, but they are thicker. If you happen to clutch a little with gratification or excitement, your claws don't go through; and they don't squeak like a mouse in a trap and call you treacherous because their own coats are thin.
I was very comfortable in my new home. My master was exceedingly kind to me, and he has a fearless and friendly way of tickling one's toes which is particularly agreeable, and not commonly to be met with.
Yes, my life was even more luxurious than before. It is so still. To eat, drink, and sleep, to keep oneself warm, and in good condition, and to pay proper attention to one's personal appearance; that is all one has to do in a life like mine in bachelors' quarters.
One has unpleasant dreams sometimes. I think my tea is occasionally too strong, though I have learned to prefer it to milk, and my master always gives it to me in his own saucer. If he has friends to tea, they give me some in their saucers. One can't refuse, but I fancy too much tea is injurious to the nerves.
The night before last, I positively dreamed that I was deserted. I fancied that I was chased along a housetop, and fell from the gutter. Down—down—but I woke up on the bear-skin before the fire, as our man-servant was bringing in candles.
It made me wonder how Mrs. Tabby was getting on. I had never done anything further in that matter; but really when one's life goes in a certain groove, and everything one can wish for is provided in abundance, one never seems to have time for these things. It is wonderful how energetic some philanthropic people are. I dare say they like the fuss. (I can't endure fuss!) And Mrs. Tabby's appearance—excellent creature!—would probably make her feel ill-at-ease in bachelor quarters, if we could change places. Her fur is really almost mangy, and she has nothing to speak of in the way of a tail. But she is a worthy soul. And some day, when the Captain and I are going to town without much luggage—or if she should happen to be collecting in the country,—I will certainly look up a few of my worst bones for the Fund.
I really hesitate to approach the subject of my one source of discontent. It seems strange that there should be any crook in a lot so smooth as ours. Plenty to eat and drink, handsome coats, no encumbrances, and a temperament naturally inclined—at least, in my case—towards taking life easy. And yet, as I lay stretched full-length down one of my master's knees the other night, before a delicious fire, and after such a saucerful of creamy tea which he could not drink himself—I kept waking up with uncomfortable starts, fancying I saw on the edge of the fender—but I will tell the matter in proper order.
I turned round to get my back to it, but I thought of it all the same; and as every hair of my moustaches twitched, with the vexation of my thoughts, I observed that my master was pulling and biting at his, and glaring at the fire as if he expected to see—however, I do not trouble myself about the crumples in his rose-leaves. He is big enough to take care of himself. My own grievance I will state plainly and at once. It may be a relief to my mind, which I sometimes fear will be unhinged by dwelling on the thought of—but to begin.
It will easily be understood that after my arrival at my new home, I waited anxiously for the appearance of the mouse; but it will hardly be credited by any one who knows me, or who knew my grandmother, that I saw it and let it escape me. It was seated on the sugar-basin, just as the Captain had described it. The torn ear, the jerking tail, the bright eyes—all were there.
If this story falls into the paws of any young cat who wishes to avoid the mortifications which have embittered my favoured existence, let me warn him to remember that a creature who has lived on friendly terms with human beings cannot be judged by common rules. Many a mouse's eye as bright as this one had I seen, but hitherto never one that did not paralyze before my own.
He looked at me—I looked at him. His tail jerked—mine responded. Our whiskers twitched—joy filled my brain to intoxication—I crept—I crouched—I sprang—
He was not spell-bound—he did not even run away. With a cool twinkle of that hateful eye, and one twitch of the ragged ear, he just overbalanced the silver sugar-pot and dropped to the ground, the basin and sugar falling on the top of him with a crash which made me start against my will. I think that start just baulked the lightning flash of my second leap, and he was gone—absolutely gone. To add insult to injury, my master ran in from his bedroom and shouted—"Stealing, Toots? confound you, you've knocked down my sugar-pot," and threw both his hair-brushes at me.
I steal?—and, worse still, I knock down anything, who have walked among three dozen wine-glasses, on a shelf in the butler's pantry, without making them jingle! But I must be calm, for there is more to tell.
The mouse never returned. It was something, but it was not enough. My pride had been deeply hurt, and it demanded revenge. At last I felt it almost a grievance that I did reign supreme in the Captain's quarters, that the mouse did not come back—and let me catch him.
Besides our in-door man, my master had an Irish groom, and the groom had a place (something between a saddle-room and a scullery) where he said he "kept what the master required," but where, the master said, Terence kept what was not wanted, and lost what was.
There certainly were, to my knowledge, fifteen empty Day and Martin's blacking-bottles in one corner, for I used occasionally to walk over them to keep my feet in practice, and it was in this room that Terence last had conscious possession of the hunting-breeches which were never seen after the Captain's birthday, when Terence threw the clothes-brush after me, because I would not drink the master's health in whisky, and had to take the cleanest of the shoe brushes to his own coat, which was dusty from lying in the corn-chest.
But he was a good-natured creature, and now and then, for a change, I followed him into the saddle-room. I am thankful to say I have never caught mice except for amusement, and a cat of daintier tastes does not exist. But one has inherited instincts—and the musty, fusty, mousey smell of the room did excite me a little. Besides, I practised my steps among the blacking-bottles.
I was on the top of the most tottering part of the pile one afternoon, when I saw a pair of bead-like eyes, and—yes, I could swear to it—a torn ear. But before I could spring to the ground they had vanished behind the corn-chest.
This was how it came about that when the Captain's room was cosiest, and he and his friends were kindest, I used to steal away from luxuries which are dear to every fibre of my constitution, and pat hastily down to the dirty hole, where Terence accumulated old rubbish and misused and mislaid valuables—in the wild hope that I might hear, smell, or see the ragged-eared enemy of my peace.
What hours I have wasted, now blinking with sleep, now on the alert at sounds like the revelries of mocking mice.
When I say that I have even risked wet feet, on a damp afternoon, to get there—every cat will understand how wild must have been the infatuation!
I tried to reason myself out of it. "Toots," I would say, "you banished him from your master's room, and you have probably banished him from Terence's. Why pursue the matter farther? So pitiful an object is unworthy of your revenge."
"Very true," I would reply to myself, "but I want a turn in the air. I'll just step down as far as the saddle-room once more, and make myself finally comfortable by looking behind the old barrel. I don't think I went quite round it."
There is no delusion so strong when it besets you, or so complete a failure in its results—as the hope of getting relief from an infatuation by indulging it once more. It grows worse every time.
One day I was stealing away as usual, when I caught my master's eye with a peculiar expression in it. He was gnawing his moustaches too. I am very fond of him, and I ran back to the chair and looked up and mewed, for I wanted to know what was the matter.
"You're a curious cat, Toots," said he; "but I suppose you're only like the rest of the world. I did think you did care a little bit for me. It's only the cream, is it, old fellow? As a companion, you prefer Terence? Eh? Well, off with you!"
But I need hardly say that I would not leave him. It was no want of love for him that led me to the saddle-room. I was not base enough to forget that he had been my friend in need, even if he had been less amiable to me since. All that evening I lay on his breast and slept. But I dreamt of the mouse!
The next morning he went out riding.
"He will not miss me now," thought I. "I will devote the morning to hunting through that wretched room inch by inch, for the last time. It will satisfy me that the mouse is not there, and it really is a duty to try and convince myself of this, that I may be cured of an infatuation which causes annoyance to so excellent a master."
I hurried off as rapidly as befitted the vigour of the resolution, and when I got into the saddle-room I saw the mouse. And when the mouse saw me he fled like the wind.
I confess that I should have lost him then, but that a hole on which he had reckoned was stopped up, and he had to turn.
What a chase it was! Never did I meet his equal for audacity and fleetness. But I knew the holes as well as he did, and cut him off at every one. Round and round we went—behind the barrel, over the corn-chest, and then he made for the middle of the room.
Now, amongst all the rubbish which Terence had collected about him, there were many old articles of clothing belonging to the Captain, including a pair of long riding-boots, which had been gathering mildew, and stiffening out of shape in their present position ever since I came. One of these was lying on the floor; and just as I was all but upon the mouse, he darted into the boot.
A quiver of delight ran through me. With all his unwonted sagacity, Master Mouse had run straight into a trap. The boot was wide, and head and shoulders I plunged in after my prey.
I scented him all the way down the leg, but the painful fact is that I could not quite get to the bottom. He must have crouched in the toe or heel, and I could get no farther than the calf. Oh, if my master's legs had but been two inches shorter! I should have clawed into the remotest corner of the foot. As it was, I pushed, I struggled, I shook, I worried the wretched boot—but all in vain.
Only when I was all but choked did I withdraw my head for a gasp of fresh air. And there was the Captain himself, yelling with laughter, and sprawling all over the place in convulsions of unseemly merriment, with those long legs which—but they are not his fault, poor man!
That is my story—an unfinished tale, of which I do not myself know the end. This is the one crook in my luxurious lot—that I cannot see the last of that mouse.
Happily, I don't think that my master any longer misunderstands my attachment to the saddle-room. The other day, he sat scribbling for a long time with a pencil and paper, and when he had done it, he threw the sketch to me and said, "There, Toots, look at that, and you will see what became of your friend!"
It was civilly meant, and I append the sketch for the sake of those whom it may inform. I do not understand pictures myself.
Those boots have a strange fascination for me now. I sit for hours by the mouth of the one where he went in and never came back. Not the faintest squeak from its recesses has ever stirred the sensitive hairs of my watchful ear. He must be starving, but not a nibble of the leather have I heard. I doze, but I am ever on the alert. Nightmares occasionally disturb me. I fancy I see him, made desperate by hunger, creep anxiously to the mouth of the boot, pricking his tagged ear. Once I had a terrible vision of his escaping, and of his tail as it vanished round the corner.
But these are dreams. He has never returned, I suspect that the truth is, that he had a fit from fright, in the toe of the boot, and is dead. Some day Terence will shake out his skeleton.
It grows very cold. This place is full of draughts, and the floor is damp.
He must be dead. He never could have lasted so long without a move or a nibble.
And it is tea-time. I think I shall join the Captain.
THE HENS OF HENCASTLE.
(Translated from the German of Victor Blüthgen.)
What a hot, drowsy afternoon it was.
The blazing sun shone with such a glare upon the farmyard that it was almost unbearable, and there was not a vestige of grass or any green thing to relieve the eye or cast a little shade.
But the fowls in the back yard were not disturbed by the heat the least bit in the world, for they had plenty of time in which to doze, and they were fond of taking a siesta in the hottest place that could be found. Certainly the hottest place that afternoon, by far, was the yard in which they reposed.
There were five of them—a cock and four hens. Two of the hens were renowned throughout the whole village, for they wore tufts of feathers on their heads instead of the usual red combs; and the cock was very proud of having such distinguished-looking wives.
Besides which, he was naturally a very stately bird himself in appearance, and had a splendid blackish-green tail and a golden speckled hackle, which shone and glistened in the sun. He had also won many sharp battles with certain young cocks in the neighbourhood, whom curiosity about the tufted foreigners had attracted to the yard. The consequence of these triumphs was that he held undisputed dominion as far as the second fence from the farmyard, and whenever he shut his eyes and sounded his war-clarion, the whole of his rivals made off as fast as wings and legs could carry them.
So the five sat or stood by themselves in the yard, dozing in the sunshine, and they felt bored.
During the middle of the day they had managed to get some winks of sleep, but now the farmer's men began to thresh in a barn close by, making noise enough to wake the dead, so there was small chance of well-organized fowls being able to sleep through the din.
"I wish some one would tell a story," said one of the common hens, as she ruffled all her feathers up on end, and then shook them straight again, for coolness. "I am tired of scrabbling in the dust, and fly-catching is an amusement only suited to sparrows and such vulgar birds."
This was a hit at one of the foreign hens, who had wandered away a little and was pecking at flies on the wall. The two common hens were very fond of vexing the foreign ones, for their feelings were hurt at being reckoned less beautiful and rare.
The tufted fair one heard the remark, and called out spitefully from a distance: "If certain people were not ignorant country bumpkins, they would be able to tell a good story themselves."
"That remark can't apply to me, for I know a great number of stories," replied the common hen, turning her head on one side to show her contempt. "For instance: once upon a time there was a hen who laid nothing but soft-shelled eggs—"
"You can't mean me by that story," said the tufted one, "for I have only laid one soft-shelled egg in my whole life. So there! But do tell me how your interesting story ends—I am so anxious to hear the end."
"You know that best yourself," retorted the other.
"Now I'm sure, dear Father Cock, you could tell us something really amusing if you would be so kind," said the second common hen, who was standing near him. "Those two make one's life a burthen, with their everlasting wrangling and bickering."
"Hush!" said the cock, who was standing motionless with one leg in the air, an attitude he often assumed when any very hard thinking had to be done; "I was just trying to recollect one."
After a pause, he said in a solemn voice: "I will tell you the terrible tale of the troubles of 'The Hens of Hencastle.'
"Once upon a time—it was the village fair week, when, as you know, every one eats and drinks as much as he possibly can, and consequently a great many animals are killed,—the farmer's cook came into the fowlyard, and after carefully looking over all the chickens, remarked that seven of them would be twisting merrily on the spit next morning. On hearing this, all the fowls were plunged into the deepest despair, for no one felt sure that he would not be of the seven, and no one could guess how the victims would be chosen. Two young cockerels, in their deep perplexity, at last went to the yard-dog, Flaps by name, who was a very great friend of theirs, and to him they cackled out their woes.
"'Why do you stop here?' asked Flaps. 'If you had any pluck at all you would run away.'
"'Ah! Perhaps so—but who has enough courage for such a desperate step?' sighed the young cockerels. 'Why, you yourself are no more courageous than we, else why do you stop here chained up all day, and allow those tiresome children to come and tease you?'
"'Well,' replied the dog, 'I earn a good livelihood by putting up with these small discomforts, and besides that, I am not going to be set twisting on a spit. However, if you particularly wish it, we can go away somewhere together; but if we do, I may as well tell you at once, that you will have to feed me.'
"The cockerels, fired by this bold advice, betook themselves at once to the henroost with the courage of young lions; and after a short but animated discussion, persuaded the whole of the cocks and hens to run away and to take Flaps as protector of the community.
"When darkness fell, the dog was unchained for the night as usual, and as soon as the coast seemed clear, he went to the henhouse, pushed back the sliding door with his nose, and let them all out.
"Then he and the whole company stole away as quietly as possible through the yard-gate, away out into the open country.
"The fowls flew and wandered on, the livelong night, perfectly happy in their freedom, and feeding themselves from the sheaves of corn that stood in the stubble-fields.
"Whenever Flaps felt hungry, the hens laid him a couple of eggs or so which he found far nicer than barley-meal and dog-biscuit.
"When they passed through thinly-populated places where they were not likely to be observed, they marched gaily forward; but whenever there was a chance of danger, they only travelled by night.
"Meanwhile the cook went early in the morning to kill the chickens; but on finding the whole place as empty as Mother Hubbard's cupboard, she fell into a violent fit of hysterics, and the kitchen-maid and pig-boy had to put her under the pump, and work it hard for a quarter of an hour before they could revive her.
"After some days' journeying, the wanderers arrived at a large desolate-looking heath, in the middle of which stood an old weather-beaten house, apparently uninhabited. Flaps was sent forward to examine it, and he searched from garret to cellar without finding a trace of a human being. The fowls then examined the neighbourhood for two whole days and nights with a like result, and so they determined to take up their abode in the dwelling.
"In they trooped, and set themselves to work to turn it into a strong castle, well fortified against all danger. They stopped up the holes and cracks with tufts of grass, and piled a wall of big and little stones right round the house. When the repairs were completed they called it Hencastle.
"During the autumn some of the fowls ventured forth into the cornfields that lay near the haunts of men, and collected a store of grain to supply them with food during the winter. They kept it on the floor of a loft, and when spring came they sowed the remainder of the stock in a field, where it produced such an abundant crop that they had plenty of provisions for the following winter.
"Thus they lived a peaceful and happy life, which was so uneventful that it has no history; and Mark, the watchman, who always stood on the coping-stone of the highest chimney to act as sentinel, used constantly to fall asleep, partly from sheer boredom, and partly from the combined effects of old age, good living, and having nothing on earth to do. Flaps, too, who had undertaken to guard the castle against intruders, and who at first used to patrol the house carefully inside and out every night, soon came to the conclusion that the game was not worth the candle.
"One chilly evening, about the time of the first snows, when the wind was beginning to whistle over the heath and make strange noises in the castle, two old hens were up in the loft having a chat and picking up a few stray grains of corn for supper. All of a sudden they heard a mysterious 'Piep.' 'Hollo!' said one, 'what's that? no one can be hatching out at this time of the year—it's impossible; yet surely something said "Piep" down there in the corner.'
"Just then another 'Piep' was heard.
"'I don't think it sounds quite like a young chicken,' replied the other hen.
"In the middle of their discussion on this knotty point, they descried a couple of mice at the edge of the corn-heap. One of them was sitting on his hind-legs, washing his ears and whiskers with his fore-paws, but his wife was gobbling up corn at a rapid rate, and in this sight the wise and far-seeing old hens discerned the probability of future troubles.
"'Hollo there! that's our corn,' they cried; 'you mustn't steal it. Of course you may have a few grains in the depth of winter to keep you from starving; but remember, when spring comes again, this sort of thing must stop, and you must go away and never come here any more.'
"'Piep,' said the mice, and vanished.
"The two hens told the rest what had happened, but nobody troubled themselves about such an insignificant matter, and some said that the poor old things made mountains out of molehills. Anyhow, in two days everybody, including the wise hens themselves, had forgotten all about it. Later on, that winter, the mice had seven young ones—seven such skinny, thread-limbed, beady-eyed little beasts that no one noticed their arrival.
"Very soon after, almost before any hen had time to look round or think, behold! mice were squeaking in every corner, and there were holes behind every wainscot, plank, and rafter.
"A year passed away, and when winter returned again the mice came and took the stored corn away in such quantities that everybody saw none would be left to sow in the spring.
"Matters had come to a crisis; many and anxious discussions were held amongst the fowls, for good counsel was a thing much sought after at Hencastle.
"At first they took very energetic measures, and many a mouse fell a victim to a well-aimed peck from a cock's beak; but alas! the mice took energetic measures also, and resisted to the death, so that many a fowl's leg was bitten to the bone. Much had been said, and much was done, but the mice were more numerous than before.
"The commonwealth then decided on sending three experienced cocks out into the world, to try and find some means for getting rid of the plague of mice.
"The cocks journeyed for one whole day without finding anything to help them in their trouble, but towards evening they came to a wild, rocky mountainside, full of caves and clefts, and made up their minds to stay there for the night; so they crept into a hole under a ledge of rock, put their heads under their wings, and went to sleep.
"In the middle of the night they were roused by the sound of flapping wings, followed by a whispering voice, saying, 'whish—ish,' which soon broke out into a loud 'Whoo—hoo! whoo—hoo!' They popped their heads out of the hole to see what was the matter, and they perceived a great owl sitting on a stump, flapping its wings up and down, and rolling its great round eyes about, which glared like red-hot coals in its head.
"'Mice here! Mice here! Whoo—hoo!' it shrieked.
"On hearing this the cocks nudged one another, and said, 'We are in luck's way at last.' Then as the owl still continued to call for mice, one of them plucked up courage and addressed it: 'If you will only come with us, sir, you shall have as many mice as you can eat—a whole house-full, if you like.'
"'Who may you be?' hissed the owl, and glared with its fiery eyes into the cleft.
"'We come from Hencastle, where there are hundreds of mice, who devour our corn day and night.
"'Whoo—hoo! I'll come, I'll come,' screamed the owl, snapping its beak with pleasure.
"In the grey of the dawn the fowls sat on the roof-tree, listening to Mark, the watchman, who stood on the top of, his chimney, and cried,
"'What do I see?
Here come the three!
And with them, I reckon,
A bird with no neck on.'
"Thereupon the owl and the three messengers flew up with a rush to the top of the castle.
"'Ha! ha! I smell mice,' shrieked the new comer, and dashed through a hole in the roof, from whence it shortly reappeared with a mouse in its claws.
"This sight filled all the fowls with joy; and as they sat on the edge of the roof in a row, they nudged each other, and remarked,
"'This has indeed been a happy venture.'
"For a few days everything went as smoothly as possible, but after a time the mice began to find out that the owl could only see really well at night, that it saw badly by day, and hardly at all when the midday sun was shining through the window into the loft. So they only came out at noon, and then dragged enough corn away into their holes to last them till the following day.
"One night the owl did not catch a single mouse, and so, being very hungry, drove its beak into some hen's eggs that lay in a corner, and ate them. Finding them more to its taste than the fattest mouse, and much less trouble to catch, henceforth the owl gave up mouse-hunting, and took to egg-poaching. This the fowls presently discovered, and the three wise cocks were sent to tell the owl to go away, as it was no longer of use to anybody, for it never caught mice but only ate eggs.
"'Whoo—hoo! whoo—hoo! More eggs—give me more eggs, or I'll scratch your eyes out,' shrieked the owl, and began to whet its beak on a beam in such a savage manner that the three cocks fled in terror to the top of the chimney.
"Having somewhat recovered from their alarm, they went down and told Flaps, who was basking in the sunshine, that the owl must be got rid of.
"'What, are all the mice eaten, then?' inquired he.
"'Alas!' answered one of the cocks, 'the brute will eat nothing but eggs now, and threatens to scratch our eyes out if we don't supply as many more as it wants.'
"'Wait till noonday,' said the dog, 'and I'll soon bring the rascal to reason.'
"At twelve o'clock Flaps quietly pushed the door open and went up into the loft. There sat the old owl winking and blinking in a corner.
"'So you are the robber who is going to scratch people's eyes out,' said Flaps. 'For this you must die!'
"'That remains to be seen,' sneered the owl; 'but eyes I will have, and dogs' eyes too!' and with that it swooped down upon Flaps' head; but the old dog seized the bird between his teeth and killed it, though not before one of his own eyes had been scratched out in the struggle.
"'No matter,' said Flaps; 'I've done my duty, at any rate, and I don't know why I should want more than one eye to see with;' and so saying, he went back to his post.
"The fowls made a great feast, which lasted the whole day, to celebrate the owl's death.
"But the mice remained in the castle, and continued to increase and multiply. So the three wise cocks had to go forth on a second voyage of discovery, in order to try and find a remedy against the intruders.
"They flew on for a night and a day without any result; but towards morning, on the second day, they alighted to rest in a thick wood, and there, in one of the forest glades, just as the sun was rising, they saw a red-coated animal watching a mouse-hole. It was a fox, who had come out to find something for breakfast. They soon saw him catch a mouse and eat it, and then heard him say, 'Heaven be praised for small mercies! I have managed to secure a light breakfast at last, though I've been hunting all night in vain.'
"'Do you hear that?' said one of the messengers. 'He considers himself very lucky to have caught a single mouse. That's the sort of animal we want.'
"So the cock called down from the tree—'I say! below there! Mr. Mouse-eater! you can have a whole loft-full of such long-tailed vermin as that, if you will come with us. But you must first solemnly swear that you will never eat eggs instead of mice.'
"'Nothing on earth shall ever tempt me to touch an egg. I swear it most solemnly,' said the fox, staring up into the tree. 'But whence do you come, my worthy masters?'
"'We live at Hencastle, but no one knows where that is except the mice, who eat us out of house and home.'
"'You don't say so,' said the fox from below, licking his lips. 'And are there many more such handsome, magnificent birds as you are, at Hencastle?'
"'Why, of course, the whole place is full of them.'
"'Then I'll come with you,' said the fox, lowering his eyes, lest the cocks should discern the hungry look in them. 'And if there are a thousand mice in the loft, they shall all soon lick the dust. Ah! you don't know what delicious dainties such—mice—are.'
"This time the fowls had to wait till evening before they heard Mark, the watchman, crowing from his chimney, and calling forth,
"'Here come the three!
But what do I see?
Why, the friend that they bring
Is a four-legged thing.'
"When the fox got to the outer wall, he sniffed about uneasily and said,
"'I smell a dog, and I am not fond of the race, nor do they as a rule like me.'
"'You need not be alarmed,' replied the cocks; 'there is only one of them here—our friend Mr. Flaps,—and he is always stationed outside the castle; besides, he is just as glad as we are that you have come to kill the mice.'
"But in spite of this assurance, the fox did not at all like the idea of going in past Flaps, who stood at the door, showing his teeth, and with the hair down his back standing on end; but at last, catching sight of a number of plump young chickens looking out at a window, Reynard could resist no longer, and with his mouth watering in anxiety to be among them, he slipped past Flaps like lightning, and scampered up into the loft. Once there, he behaved so affably to the fowls, and especially to some of the oldest and most influential hens, that very soon every one looked on him as their friend in time of need, and their enthusiasm was brought to a climax when they saw him catch four mice in half as many minutes.
"In the dead of the night, when all were asleep, Reynard crept up to where the fowls roosted, and finding out where the youngest and fattest were perched, he snapped off the heads of a couple before they had even time to flutter a feather. He then carried them to the window, opened it very gently, dropped the dead bodies out on to the ground beneath, and then sped away down to the house-door and bolted it.
"When he had done this, he returned to the old hens and woke them by groaning in such a heartbreaking manner, that all the fowls crowded round him to know what was amiss.
"'Alas!' cried he, 'it has been my sad lot to witness a most fearful sight. That dog whom you keep down below to guard the house slipped in at the door, and going to the corner where the lovely young chickens roost, quicker than thought killed two that were more beautiful than angels. I was chasing a mouse under the stairs at the time, and happened to come up just as the dreadful deed was done, and I saw the robber making off with his booty. Only come with me a minute, and you shall see that I have spoken the truth.'
"He took the scared and frightened fowls to the window, and when they looked out, they saw to their horror their guardian Flaps sniffing at the dead bodies on the ground outside.
"'Who would have thought it!' said the hens, in an awe-stricken whisper.
"'You may thank me,' said the fox, 'for my presence of mind in bolting the house-door when he ran out, or no one knows how many more he would have killed! If you will take my advice, you will send him about his business; and if you will put me in his place, I can assure you that you shall be protected in quite another manner.'
"'Hi! open the door,' cried Flaps, who saw something was wrong; 'you've got another King Stork, I'll be bound.' But though he rattled and shook the door, no one unbolted it. 'Ah!' sighed Flaps, 'before long the whole pack of idiots will be killed and eaten.' So he scratched open an old hole in the wall that had been stopped up, and crept in. He arrived just in time to hear the old hens giving orders that no more eggs were to be given him, and that the door was to be kept bolted, in order that he might be obliged either to leave the place or to starve.
"They were all talking at once, and so eagerly, that no one noticed the dog come up behind them. He gave one spring and seized the fox by the throat. The attack was quite unexpected, but the fox fought, writhed, and wriggled like an eel, and just as he was being borne down, he made one desperate snap, and bit off the dog's ear close to the head.
"'Well, my ear is done for, but so is this blood-thirsty villain,' said Flaps, looking down at the fox, which lay dead at his feet; 'and as for you, you pack of ungrateful fools, one ear is quite enough to listen to you with. Here have I been your faithful comrade for all these years, and yet you believe that I have turned murderer in my old age on the word of this rogue, who did the evil deed himself last night.'
"Now that the panic was over, the fowls felt heartily ashamed of themselves for having been deceived by the fox, and done Flaps such great injustice. So they all asked his pardon, and the feast which they held to celebrate their deliverance from the fox was even more magnificent than the last, and it went on for two whole days.
"Hencastle was en fête for a time, but it was a very short time. For the mice were no less glad than the fowls that their enemy was dead; and now that both he and the owl had disappeared, they came out fearlessly at all hours of the day, and lived a life quite free from trouble and care.
"Not so the fowls. What was to be done with the ever-increasing colony of corn-stealers? The more the fowls meditated, the more the mice squeaked and played about, and the more corn they dragged away into their holes. There was even a rumour that some one meddled with the eggs.
"There was nothing for it but to dispatch the three messengers a third time, with directions to be more vigilant and careful than before. Away they flew, farther than ever. The first chance of help that arose was from a couple of cats and a kite, who seemed likely to perform the required work, but the cocks declined to accept their aid, feeling that the Hencastle had suffered too much already from two-winged and four-legged protectors.
"At length the messengers reached a bit of waste ground close to a village, and there they saw an extremely grimy-looking gipsy sitting on a bank. He knocked the ashes out of his black pipe, and muttered, 'I've the luck of a dog! Here am I with a lot of the best mouse-traps in the world, and I haven't sold one this blessed day!'
"'Here's luck!' said the wise birds. 'That is exactly the man for us; he is neither two-winged nor four-legged, so he will be quite safe.'
"They flew down at once to the rat-catcher and made their proposition. He laughed softly and pleasantly to himself, and accepted their invitation without any demur, and started at once with a light step and lighter heart for Hencastle.
"Two days after this, the fowls heard Mark, the watchman, crowing away lustily from his chimney-pot,
"'What do I see?
Here come the three!
And the black beast they bring
Has no tail and no wing.'
"'But,' added the sentinel in less official language, 'he carries a bundle of things that look like little houses made of wire.'
"The gipsy was at once taken up to the loft, and having, luckily, a few scraps of strong-smelling bacon left over from his last night's supper, he struck a light and managed to make a small fire in the long-disused grate with some bits of dry grass and chips. He then frizzled some bacon and baited his traps, and in less than ten minutes he had filled them all, for the mice had never smelt such a delicious thing as fried bacon before, and besides, they were new to the wiles of man.
"The fowls were wild with delight, and in their thankfulness they bethought them of a special mark of favour, and every hen came clucking up to him and laid an egg at his feet.
"For about a week the gipsy did nothing but catch mice and eat eggs; but all things must have an end, and the bacon ran out, just when the gipsy had come to the conclusion that he was heartily sick of egg-diet. Being a man of action, he put out his hand suddenly and caught the fattest and nicest young chicken within reach, and promptly wrung its neck.
"Oh, what a row there was in the henroost! The cocks began to crow loud enough to split their throats, and the hens to fly about and cackle. The man was nearly deafened, and yelled out at the top of his voice, 'What do you expect, you fools? Mice can only be caught with meat, and meat I must and will have too.' He then let them rave on, and quietly and methodically continued to pluck his chicken. When it was ready, he made a fire and began to roast it.
"In the meanwhile, Flaps had heard all the noise and outcry, and as it showed no signs of abating, he thought the man was most likely in mischief, so he went into the castle.
"'Oh! Woe! Misery! Horror! Despair!' cried all the fowls at once as soon as they saw him. 'The murderer has slain young Scratchfoot the cock, and is just going to roast him!'
"'You're a dead man,' growled Flaps to the rat-catcher, as soon as he got up to the loft.
"'I'm not so sure of that, my fine cur,' said the man, taking hold of the cudgel he had brought with him, and tucking up his sleeves.
"But the brave old dog sprang at him and bit him so severely that he uttered a savage groan, and dealt Flaps a heavy blow with his cudgel. This nearly broke the dog's leg and obliged him to relax his hold, on which the gipsy dashed down-stairs and ran away with such speed that Flaps on three legs had no chance of overtaking him.
"'Wait a bit!' cried the man from afar. 'I'll remember you!' And then his retreating figure became smaller and smaller on the heath until at last it disappeared altogether.
"This time the fowls had no heart for a feast. They sat brooding and moping in rows on the rafters, for they began to see very clearly that it was quite hopeless to try and get rid of the mice.
"Poor old Flaps, too, was very ill. A good many days elapsed before he could get about, and for years he walked lame on his injured leg.
"One morning as the fowls were listlessly wandering about, wondering what was to happen next, Mark, the watchman, was heard crowing away in a very excited manner,
"'What do I see?
Twenty and three!'
"'What do you see?' cried they all in a great fright. 'Twenty and three what?'
"'An army of soldiers dressed in smock frocks. They are armed with pitchforks, and the black gipsy is their general.'
"The fowls flew up like a cloud to the roof, and sure enough they saw the rat-catcher coming across the heath with a crowd of villagers towards the castle.
"When they broke the doleful news to Flaps, he said, 'That scoundrel of a man has betrayed our hiding-place, and we must wander forth again. Get ready, and keep up your spirits, and remember that in any case we should not have been able to stay here much longer, on account of the mice.'
"So the hens filled their crops as full as possible, and escaped with Flaps out at the back door.
"When the country-folk got to the house, they found nothing in it but a small heap of corn; so they fell upon the gipsy and half killed him for having brought them on a fool's errand. Then they divided what little corn there was left, and went away.
"As to the mice they were left to whistle for their food.
"So ends the tale of the Hens of Hencastle."
"And a very fine tale too," said one of the stranger-hens who had been asleep all the time, and woke up with a jump. "It was deeply interesting." The threshers happened to have stopped to rest for a moment, or she would never have woke at all.
"Of course it was!" said the cock, full of dignity; and he shook his feathers straight.
"But what became of the fowls afterwards?" asked one of the common hens.
"I never tell a hen a secret," said the cock; and he strutted off to hunt for worms.